


Dragonfall

by Anonymous



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pern Fusion, Brother/Brother Incest, Disability-Unfriendly Society, M/M, Non-Verbal Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rider Losing Dragon (Dragonriders of Pern), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28747713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The obligatory tragic followup to all GuriAto AUs.
Relationships: Torgrim/Atli (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 2
Collections: Anonymous





	Dragonfall

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Dragonfuck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702200). I envisioned these as being set during one of the long unrecorded periods on Pern, at a time when the settlers' scientific knowledge is starting to slip away, but things haven't completely lapsed into feudalism yet. Attitudes toward the disabled aren't quite as bad as they would have been during Earth's Viking Age, but I doubt a rider would be able to stay in a Weyr after losing his dragon, and Weyrs would be the closest thing to communal living where a disabled person could be cared for by a group of people with an emotional attachment.
> 
> (Brief mention of Atli getting consensually smacked around during sex; not quite enough for a tag. I think they'd make a point in most universes to avoid causing any physical marks on each other, since they're so proud of protecting each other in battle.)
> 
> @vincestsaga on twitter for more brocontent 👍

They must have been missed by now. Two missing human bodies, with no matching Threadmark on the land below. One vanished dragon, its death unmarked by the other dragons of the Weyr—although with so many gone, they might not have spared her a thought yet.

The Weyr's full of dragons and riders. There's no need to come chasing after a single green and her rider. **But then they've got fewer now, haven't they?**

That's all the more reason not to waste their time, then. Even though Atli hasn't dared trying to go _between_. Not with his passenger. They're traveling by dragon wing alone.

Torgrim doesn't have a scratch on him. No biting incursions from Threadscore, no blisters from his boots. He's just gone behind the eyes.

If he were wounded it might be better. Burns from dragon fire, a gouge from dragon talons. He'd need them treated, and he might react somehow. Relief, or even distress from the pain.

**And how much numbweed do you think you have on you, fool?**

Atli wishes he didn't know so well what Torgrim would say. He knows his brother isn't really speaking to him the way his dragon does. It's unfair having to think the echo of his voice. The trouble is Torgrim is the practical one, and right now he needs to be thinking practically. Carefully mouthing the words to return to his own internal voice, he sets about his thinking.

The weather's all right, so they won't need shelter tonight. Soleth can forage on her own, once she gets hungry. Bring back meat, if she finds a good source. Lucky thing greens are the smallest of dragons. At worst, they might have to poach. Maybe, if Torgrim's condition is stable, they can travel through _between_. Though he has no idea what the destination would be. All he knows is his Weyr.

If they absolutely need to, there's a chance he could go back there, alone. For a minute or two, and then escape back to here, with a location in mind none of the other riders would know.

**What could you grab in two minutes? You want her to pop out in the middle of your room?**

If they absolutely need to. He might think of something.

 _I don't want to,_ Soleth informs him.

 _We can't, anyway,_ Atli tells her. _I don't want him alone._

She's watching Torgrim dutifully enough. He kicked her badly when they landed, and Atli's relieved she's not holding the grudge. It was the first sign of _anything_ from Torgrim, except for the way he clung tight while they were riding. He clambered off nearly before they hit the ground, kicking and struggling to be free. Atli was afraid he'd twisted an ankle, but his luck held. No redness or swelling to be seen.

 _Don't be angry at him. He had to watch..._ He stumbles over the thought of her brother. _He had to watch Thread take... you know._

Men who lose their dragons can't be the same afterward. He knew as soon as he found his brother on the ground, sunk to his knees on a rocky outcropping he must have scrambled across to escape Thread. He knew Torgrim couldn't live in the Weyr anymore. If he lived at all.

 _No,_ says Soleth.

Atli lifts his head to look at her. "What do you mean, no?"

 _Gulleth went_ between. _Not by Thread._

"No. All the dragons were taken by Thread. It was a freak storm. Pieces of Thread too large to dodge properly." She saw it too. Her head's confused from the chaos.

_Not Gulleth. They dodged part of it. When I saw the fall from the corner of my eye. It was big in the sky._

They were elsewhere. Ordered off from the rest of the Wing to deal with a tiny clump that fell on its own, but Atli wishes they hadn't gone. If they'd been able to offer more than a vague warning... "You missed his body. You wouldn't have wanted to see, anyway."

_I know my mate._

She would have rushed to her brother just as Atli rushed to his brother—to his mate. But she stayed with him, thinking, as he was, only of getting Torgrim away before they were missed.

 _But..._ Atli shifts back to their mental link. He doesn't want Torgrim hearing, somehow. If Torgrim hears anything at all now. _If they lost their destination, trying to freeze the Thread off, how did Torgrim get back, and Gulleth... get lost?_

_He didn't go. He sent Gulleth._

_No. For what purpose? No dragon would abandon his rider in the middle of Threadfall._

_He_ sent _Gulleth._ Soleth is impassive.

_No._

_They landed. Everyone was screaming. There was too much screaming. We heard that. Thread was on Gulleth. Not on him._

_He had a destination in mind, then. He couldn't concentrate with the Threadfall all around him._

**_Anywhere but here!_ **

The echo in his head is louder, this time, almost as if he's really hearing it. Soleth relaying something sent to her. It's been a day and a half since he heard his brother speak in any form. As loud as it is, it still can't penetrate into his head as it should. There's no physical feeling of sound echoing inside the skull.

"But," Atli says, his mouth dry in the warm air. "You'd hate him, if he did that."

Soleth shrugs, not as animated as usual, but not entirely lifeless. _Gulleth didn't want Thread touching his rider, either. His wings were over_ him _—covering him. Thread was starting to drip. He didn't want to go_ between _alone, but he didn't want Thread spreading from him._

"You're confused," Atli tells her shortly. "That's not my brother." Dragons have a fuzzy relationship with the past and future. Twenty other dragons and their riders would have been howling in pain, dying all around. It was one of them blasting those thoughts into her head, with Gulleth eaten by Thread already. Torgrim never screamed like that.

 _Don't go sharing that fool notion with anybody else._ If even the hint of an idea sneaks out to the rest of the world that Torgrim failed his dragon—then he's not just an invalid. It wouldn't be a question of people tiring of his presence. He'd be tolerated nowhere, not in Hold nor Weyr.

 _There's no one here to share it with._ She sounds weary.

 _I know you're not lying,_ Atli adds quickly, annoyed with himself for hurting her feelings. She's been through as much as he has in the last day and a half. _But you're confused. Riders don't do things like that. It's impossible. And Torgrim. You know how brave he is._

 _Perhaps it was a different rider._ Soleth folds her front legs and lowers herself entirely, adjusting her weight heavily. _Gulleth still went_ between.

"I'm sorry." Atli looks at Torgrim to see if it's safe to go to his dragon. Torgrim is where he's been since dismounting, looking much the same, and Atli rises quickly, as if he can speed up time by doing it.

Soleth's large head fits in his arms less heavily than her gear when he carries it for mending. She never rests her full weight on him. He pets her the way his brother pets his hair and shoulders when he's peevish. Although Torgrim always has something encouraging to say, and he has nothing. At least he has the chance of hearing his Weyrmate's voice again someday. She won't feel Gulleth leaning gently against her in the sun ever again.

"I'm sorry, dear." It's the same thing he told Torgrim as they were flying. More than likely it went unheard.

_You're not to blame._

She can't be blaming Torgrim, Atli reminds himself. Dragons don't speak with veiled meaning. They don't think much of the past or future, either. With time, she'll forget the panic and chaos they felt fro a distance, and thought she believes was relayed to her.

**And leave one living being in the world who has to remember it. What's fair about that?**

_He's moving,_ Soleth tells him.

 _He_ is always going to be Torgrim from now on. Atli turns, half frightened and half excited, to see Torgrim close to the edge of the clearing.

It's the work of a few minutes to wrest the handful of plant life from Torgrim's grasp. Nothing looks poisonous, but Atli doesn't recognize all of it, and he knows the wild grasses of Pern rest uncomfortably in human stomachs. Every Turn's worth of Weyrlings had at least one child who tried it and spent a night regretting the attempt.

"You're hungry." He hides the greenery behind his back and holds Torgrim by the elbow with his other hand. "I'm sorry. Don't eat this. We'll get you something better." _Can you find water? I'm sure I saw some from the air. Or... I don't know. Anything living in the forests._

Dragons can fish, technically speaking. Generally for their riders, since it takes a lot of fish to fill even a green's belly. Like birds, they can survey the water's surface and, less like birds, make a sudden grab with their long necks.

 _You'll need enough for two,_ Soleth says, almost to herself, as she lifts herself to a standing position.

_For one, if you can't find enough. Don't spend too much time._

_I'll find enough for two._

Atli really hasn't felt hungry since the freak storm of Thread. He'll call her back, if necessary.

 _Dragons,_ she informs him, before he can say more, _are not farm beasts. I'll find meat for two._

Deprived of his attempted meal, Torgrim sits back down, his movements sluggish. Atli keeps hold of his elbow, afraid each second that he's about to overbalance, but he doesn't need the help. Atli's the one who struggles to sit down alongside him, his own balance confused by Torgrim's movement. He jostles his brother heavily as he sets his full weight on the ground, and Torgrim grunts, but doesn't struggle as he did against any touch from Soleth after he climbed off.

"Do you know who I am?" Atli touches his shoulder gently. There's nothing he's ever heard that says dragonless men forget everything. But he's heard very little. They don't live often.

When a dragon's injured too badly to fight Thread, its rider can retire and teach Weyrlings, or even run errands between Weyrs if it can still fly. If the rider's mortally injured and the dragon well, the dragon goes _between_ when its other half dies. Often rider and dragon are just as badly injured and they die together. A man without a dragon, not injured enough to die, but not well enough to live without help—that's rare. There are stories of miraculous medicine from the old days, that allows cripples to walk and the aged or bedridden to call for faraway help at a moment's notice. But if they're true, the medicine was lost somewhere along the line.

"You _must_ know me." His voice is so plaintive that Torgrim would have cuffed him when they were small, telling him not to whine like a baby. He might've cuffed him when they were older, too, but Atli learned long ago how to whine when he's in the mood to be cuffed. Usually when Soleth's rising and they both need to feel something deep under the skin. Torgrim fusses afterwards if he thinks it's going to bruise, so he does try to be satisfied with being pinned and mated in the normal way.

Atli wonders how much he should be thinking of sex in the past tense. Maybe Torgrim will be close to himself soon. He touches his brother's hand, again gently, so as not to startle him. Torgrim held him so tightly as they were flying. There must be something telling him the freak Threadfall is over and he's safe.

 **You brought no firestone,** Torgrim would say. **Bad planning, coming out here alone.**

Atli squeezes the real Torgrim's hand a little tighter. He's not planning to live out here in the forest. They'll find a Hold. Or outfly any storms that pop up and let other dragons deal with them. "I'm not completely useless without you, you know." Anyway, as long as he doesn't lose track of the day, they're safe for now.

Torgrim doesn't squeeze back or look at him.

"I'll find you some vegetables soon," Atli tells him. "Don't try to look for yourself."

It's clear his brother is determined to survive. He wants to eat. He stayed on Soleth until they landed. He didn't need Atli holding onto his hands, scared every second he might let go.

If Gulleth was as badly injured as the other dragons, he might've gone _between_ on his own, anyway.

**_Leaving his rider in Threadfall?_ **

He'd better not think about that again with Soleth too close. She won't like it any more than he liked her theory.

Torgrim will look at him, it turns out, provided Atli is right in front of him. He follows with his eyes, not entirely engaged, but aware that a human being is something worthy of attention. After this experiment, he takes poorly to having his hand held again, shaking himself free with irritation.

"All right," Atli tells him. "Just be good."

He's drawing on the ground to amuse himself, one eye still on Torgrim, when Soleth reports success.

_Wherries. Not slow, but panicky. Flew right into my mouth._

She's a few hundred times their size, at least. More than likely they couldn't predict a way out at all. Like a child trying to outrun a bronze dragon.

"Good. I'll start a fire." His thoughts are getting morbid. It'll be a good distraction.

She's not pleased about that, but with no firestone to chew it's not as if she can help.

The fire's quick to start, luckily. Atli doesn't fancy anything that takes this much attention so long as he can't tell what Torgrim might do. "Don't ever touch this," he tells his brother, remembering Torgrim's attempt to feed himself. Torgrim's watching the flames with suspicion. Probably for the best.

The wherries are uncomfortably soggy from being inside Soleth's mouth, but she did well in the transport and there's only one puncture from a fang. Once the fur's stripped off, they might as well have been caught by a human hunter.

While dinner's cooking, Atli carefully confiscates Torgrim's knife, which he's only just remembered while skinning the birds with his own. He's starting to feel as a first-time foster mother must. There are too many dangers, too easy to forget.

Torgrim allows his knife to be removed without interest. His attention's been fixed on the wherries since their skin started to come off. Excitement growing as the smell of cooked meat starts to waft across the clearing, he nearly starts toward the fire once, but he lets Atli restrain him firmly after a few steps, and his face returns to the suspicious look he wore when the fire was starting. Definitely for the best to cultivate that fear.

Atli cuts a few strips of meat off the bones and hands them to Torgrim. There's no need to explain how cooked meat works. Torgrim's reaching for more before Atli's finished cutting it. He shakes his hand, distressed, when they're too hot to touch, and after a few more attempts, seems to accept that only food filtered through Atli can be touched.

Torgrim eats ravenously, and Atli eats the meat remaining on the bones. He takes the drumsticks, too; these birds have small legs and he doesn't know if Torgrim will try swallowing the whole thing. His own water supply's finished, but there's still some in the canteen attached to Torgrim's belt. Atli lets himself drink a bit before reminding himself he's the one who's known how to work a canteen this past day and a half. His brother must be thirstier than he can understand.

Torgrim leans against him when he's finally done eating, obviously satisfied and grateful.

**Or he knows where he's getting his food from now on.**

A long sigh from his brother reminds Atli of a dragon's purr. He nuzzles Torgrim back and touches his hand. Not the way he'd ask for a night together after Soleth's first flight, but the way he'd cling to his brother when they were small. Torgrim doesn't squeeze back, but doesn't shake him away. He must have been in pain from hunger earlier.

"Sorry," Atli whispers to him. "Come squeeze me when you're getting hungry." Then, remembering how easily his brother can pin him to the floor even in the throes of dragonheat— "Not hard. Just a little squeeze."

Soleth's eyes are a darker brightness to the fire. She watches them indulgently, and Atli thanks her again for the food.

 _Do you think he'd be alive right now if we'd been taken too in that fall?_ He's not sure why he asks. Dragons aren't much given to hypotheticals.

_No._

J _ust because I'm feeding him?_ Atli looks at Torgrim, who's poking dirt into a pile with mild interest. _Or..._

_Who knows._

She can't tell much about Torgrim anymore, without the link to him through Gulleth. And how would she know better than her rider what humans can survive, anyway. He's just pressing her out of his own anxiety because no one else is here.

 **They'll never let you keep both,** he'd told himself, looking at his brother. Dragonless men never recover. The few who survive the shock kill themselves, if they're left in Weyrs full of dragons. The ones left hollow don't last long in Holds, draining everyone's time and energy. And young, able-bodied dragon men don't use their time and energy caring for hopeless invalids. A rider doesn't leave his Weyr, either, with his dragon in tow.

**You'd better run.**

"I'm sorry," Atli tells Soleth. "He needs me more." Her eyes flash gently from the other end of the clearing. Torgrim doesn't want to be near her. And not only does he need to be kept warm, Atli can't stand the thought of his brother waking and trying to wander. Holding him is the only solution. When Torgrim wakes—or if some miracle happens and he wakes up himself—Atli will feel him.

_The air is warm enough for dragonflesh. Humans lose heat so quickly._

Torgrim accepts the arms around his shoulder and across his chest, and doesn't try to hug back. He lies calmly on his back, not making a sound, and after a while his breathing slows. Atli waits and listens, afraid it might stop, but it stays regular.

Sometimes his brother's beard prickles against his forehead in the middle of the night, and he wakes up with a big hand tracing the line of his hip. "I can't help it," Torgrim always says. "It's like somebody built you to fit me." It's Torgrim's own fault he's ticklish enough to stir awake when Atli's mustache brushes his throat or his shoulder. But in his defense, being woken doesn't put him in a temper the way it does Atli, and he's usually willing to pull his little brother into his arms with a soft, sleepy chuckle. "Needy little pup."

Atli doesn't want to sleep right now. It's only knowing that he can't go another day and a half that keeps his eyes closed, trying to breathe slowly until sleep comes. He has to sleep no longer than Torgrim does, for now. Maybe forever.

**Now, don't you cry.**

That was how he found out Torgrim was his blood brother. He was hardly old enough to know the difference between fostering and bearing a child, but the bigger boy who knocked him down in the hallway, speeding past him without a glance back, turned suddenly when he started to bawl.

_"Now, don't you cry. Bronze dragons don't like crybabies."_

"I _don't care," Atli says. "They can't see through walls."_

_"Look, stop that. We've got the same eyes, you know? If you're a crybaby, everyone's going to see my eyes all red. Stop it."_

_"We don't so have the same eyes," Atli answers, between sobs, not looking up at the other boy's face to see. "No one has the same eyes."_

_"We do! It's DNA! You're Atli. That means we came out of the same man and woman. I asked and it's both the same."_

_The new information is almost confusing enough for the tears to stop of their own accord. Atli keeps sniffling, not wanting a bully to cheer him up. "I don't care. You're mean."_

_"I'm not, I wouldn't've pushed you if I knew you'd do this. But you'd better learn how to stop crying, ‘cos other boys_ will _push you."_

_"If they push me I don't care what they think about me. I can cry if I feel like it."_

_This seems to affect Torgrim tremendously. "Then they'll push you harder!" Seizing Atli by the shoulders, he pulls him up onto his feet. The tears are scarce enough in Atli's eyes to make out a pair of greyish-blue eyes. He can't say if they're exactly the same, not without a mirror, but it's about the same color he sees when he pictures his own face. "You're my only blood brother in this whole place," Torgrim explains urgently. "I asked that too. You've got to be a man. Now, see, you're not even bleeding. What's there to cry over?"_

_"You were mean to me."_

_"Well, I didn't think you'd take it so hard!" Seized by sudden inspiration, he begins to drag Atli along with him in the direction he'd been headed—the opposite direction of Atli's errand, but Atli won't remember that until much later. "Look, there's a Wing about to start drills. I know a spot where the biggest bronze flies right over you. That's why I was running. You won't feel like crying anymore if you see that."_

Torgrim was delighted by how quickly Atli learned to stop crying. It was proof, he said, that they had the same blood. The truth was that within a matter of days, Atli discovered there was nothing in the world worse than the thought of his new brother being mean to him again. And it didn't happen. Struggle as he might have to, he made Torgrim proud of him.

So he doesn't cry. He holds onto his brother the way Torgrim used to hold onto him, so he won't have any nightmares. Maybe Torgrim will turn over in the night and hold him back. Maybe not.

He's never heard of dragon men being able to run. But maybe they can manage to hide for a while.


End file.
